QED
by amphigory
Summary: . genfic . "Should I tell you a secret as well, then?" Edward asks suddenly, the humourless smile widening into a genuine smirk. "Equivalency, or something."


_notes_ » I have no idea where this came from.

As a supplementary point, this story is based, on a fundamental level, on the manga rather than the anime. _However,_ as I actually haven't finished reading the manga quite yet (and, to be honest, I really mean that I don't know where this story came from as I stopped reading it nearly two years ago), I have no idea as to whether or not any such occurrence as the one that follows actually happened in the original story. (That sentence went on too long.)

Therefore, if it _did,_ please henceforth imagine that it _didn't_. This story is most obviously set before the end of the manga, somewhere in the distant past; in my opinion, it's pretty clear by the context. If it isn't, feel free to rail at me about my inability to properly convey what I'm thinking.

And also, I just noticed that if you write the title of this story in lowercase and then look at it upside down, it spells 'peb'. xD

_warnings _» … Nah. Actually, to those with goggles on, this probably looks vaguely pre-slash, but that wasn't my intent. Think what you like, though. I swing both ways. (Haha! I made a joke!)

_disclaimer _» I would love to claim ownership of Hagaren, but unfortunately I have nothing of equivalent value to trade. Sigh.

* * *

_q e d  
and all walls are imaginary_

* * *

"I was just looking for you."

That is the sound of the last empty hallway in the last place he wants to be. He swivels. "What a coincidence. I was just thinking of ways to avoid you."

The Colonel ignores him completely. "Today, you stay."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay."

"I'm not an animal."

"Sure you are," he replies drily. He stands at the door to his office, an imposing-looking wooden structure which appears heavy but Ed knows to be hollow. It is something he's always found to be ironically well-suited; it is the impression of an original with nothing inside. Delusions of grandeur. "_Stay_."

He does cross the threshold then. "Why so eager today?"

And the Colonel's answer to this is an easy shrug as he brushes by. "So you know," he says, "it's a huge bother when you don't wait for your own paperwork to be processed like everyone else does…"

"If it pisses you off then it's fine with me," Ed retorts. "You're lucky I hand in paperwork to you at all, Colonel _Shit_, for all the favours you've done for me."

"… And then leave my jurisdiction immediately after," Roy continues, leaning forward over the desk and levelling him with an even stare.

He grins slowly, an expression of idle amusement. "Oh, so you clued in on that? Getting quick there, I see."

"Just sit. That's an order."

"Weren't the other three?"

"And be quiet."

And that's the game. He sits.

Silence, a slow and empty silence passing.

The Colonel's office is characteristically devoid.

The Colonel's stare is characteristically calculating.

They wait.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Ed asks suddenly. "You're creeping me out."

Colonel Mustang meets his gaze again slowly. "Did anyone ever tell you how you fared on the state exam?"

By now, he thinks, he should have gotten used to these sudden non-sequiturs. "So here's the content of today's lesson, out of the blue as usual. Just cut to it next time. And for the record, if you weren't sure, I passed." He grins again.

"Your score," Roy says, not a question, and hardly even an invitation.

Debating on whether to take such obvious bait, he thinks briefly on how to answer, and sighs sharply. "… I don't know it."

The Colonel leans back lazily, still watching but with a hint of disinterest. "You may recall that the exam has four sections," he says. "These are the testing of one's alchemical knowledge, the extrapolation of this knowledge, the use of one's own knowledge in on-the-spot situations, and a brief self-assessment, or a personal statement. All are meant to judge whether or not you're equipped to be state material."

"I remember. The old man told me."

He raises an eyebrow. "If you're referring to the President, you may want to rethink your choice of words around here."

"Oh? Lecturing me on manners already? Anyway, we're on fine terms due to the fact that I have no interest in his position." Ed smirks again suddenly. "Come to think of it, he even gave me a fucking _melon._"

"Did he now?"

Listening to the silence between them that draws out more than a few moments, Edward realizes that the Colonel is again _waiting_ for him to weigh out what he knows is a fight between reluctant curiosity and stubborn independence.

"… So what about my exam?"

"You very nearly failed." Roy stares, calculating.

Ed, meeting him squarely, is unfazed. "Oh?"

"Do you remember what you wrote in the self-assessment about why you wanted to become a State Alchemist?"

"… Vaguely." _I remember._

"I'll humour you," he says, and the tone betrays it. "You wrote, _I want to save my little brother's life._"

A pause. Silence, pressing silence.

"But that's not all. You also wrote that your field of interest was alchemy for biological purposes."

Ed presses him. "… And?"

"It's obvious," he replies with another slow shrug, his voice uncharged. "The combination is a red flag. It's a dead giveaway for human transmutation, and grounds for immediate dismissal."

Ed hums slowly in response, as if considering, and after a moment placates his superior with a humourless smile. "Yet here we are."

The Colonel folds his hands in front of him, a meaningless gesture. "I'll let you in on a secret," he says. "The one who graded your exam was me."

Another hum. Then silence.

"Should I tell you a secret as well, then?" Edward asks suddenly, the humourless smile widening into a genuine smirk. "Equivalency, or something."

"Shoot."

"I knew it was a red flag."

Colonel Mustang says nothing.

"I wanted to see if there were any sentimental idiots like me in the military," Ed continues with a brief glance out the window, and then pointedly gives him a blank stare. "And look, there were."

"You nearly threw away your chances," he says flatly.

"Do you think?" Ed asks suddenly, curiously, but the question fades.

The Colonel defaults. "Fullmetal, there's no place in the military for weakness."

"So why didn't you fail me then? Because I was a kid? You do realize whose weakness that looks like, right?"

He unfolds his gloved hands in front of him, one and then the other, as if noticing them for the first time, and asks slowly, "You agree that the hand of alchemy is one which both defends and protects?"

It's not quite a question, and Ed narrows his gaze briefly in response. "With brute force."

"Precisely."

"So you think sentimentality is a strength," he says.

"I think it's not a weakness."

"How so?"

_Pressure_.

"Sentimentality marks you as human."

The words are cheap.

The emotion is cheap.

Both of them know it.

Edward, with a sudden hitch, begins laughing. "… That's really fucking rich, you know, Colonel, that we, who've used alchemy to kill others, then use it to defend what makes us _human._ What we have in common is rich!"

And if you can't defend what makes you human, what are you?

_What are you?_

Silence.

"Have you killed?"

The Colonel's gaze is piercing then, yet he still meets it, still can face him. The words are ringing hollow. "I have," he says. "Years ago. Murder, maybe."

The answer holds conviction, echoing off the walls and fading, reverberating. It lingers. "You can't kill what's already dead, Fullmetal."

Silence.

"You can."

Colonel Mustang is watching him, still watching and still _waiting_.

_Idiot,_ he thinks.

Silence.

_What are you?_

A sigh.

"By the way," he begins again slowly, "including the amusing portion where you went after the President's life, you scored full points on the rest of the exam. But somehow, I think you knew that."

Ed looks back up at him leisurely, carelessly. "Is that so?"

"I'm telling you not to be so dismissive about what you have," he says. "To clear the test so effortlessly is no small thing. Do you have any idea that you are _lucky_—?"

It's a game, so clearly.

But that's it, Ed supposes. That's it. He stands up suddenly, stomping over and slamming both hands on the desk, the sound high and jarring, so that the two of them are eye to eye. "But you just don't get it. It's still not enough."

_I want to save my little brother's life._

"No, it isn't."

"Fucking hypocrite," he snaps. "You think you can just sit here and prattle like your own shit's gold, but here's the clincher: You're the one who graded my exam. You don't know a thing. What the hell are we doing here, either one of us?"

"What, indeed, are we doing here?"

Small words.

_I want to save my little brother's life._

_That's all._

He withdraws briefly, starting as if having just come to a sudden realization. Then, returning one hand to the desk, he slowly raps it on the desk's surface. The sound echoes. _Hollow._

He nearly starts to laugh. "Being sentimental idiots, I guess," he says.

_The desk isn't solid, either_.

The Colonel, once again, seems dismissive of his attitude. "One last thing," he says pointedly, meaningfully. "Someone graded my exam, too."

"If you're implying that there are other hypocritical assholes with your holier-than-thou attitude in the military," Edward jeers, "those are some big words from the one telling me not to call the president an _old man_."

"I'm asking if you're not being too quick to judge."

"What?" he says, his voice sharp. "Because you're _all human_ or some sappy shit like that?"

"We," Roy says smoothly, his voice glass, "_are_ all human." After a moment's pause, he continues, "In time, you may be the one sitting here telling some kid who thought he could turn the world why he's in the military."

"Because _I_ was sentimental?" Edward mocks.

"Perhaps."

"Don't worry," he says suddenly, clapping his hand down on the desk a third time with a smirk. "If I get to be even half as sanctimonious as you, I'll definitely kill myself."

"With alchemy?"

"Sure," he snaps. "Whatever. Just shut up already." He straightens up and promptly stomps towards the door, a sudden shift, pulling his jacket off the back of his chair with enough strength to send it rocking back and forth with a light clatter. He ignores it.

"You're free to go," the Colonel calls out from behind him.

"Fuck you."

Someone is knocking, another empty sound. Hawkeye, he realizes as he pulls the door open, and paperwork. _Paperwork_.

_I really am free to go._

"Lively discussion?" she asks, walking in smoothly and laying out the pages across the Colonel's desk.

"As usual," Ed mumbles.

"We were just discussing how much we have in common."

"Oh?" she says slowly, turning back to the doorway and facing him. "Sorry, but his handwriting is still better."

Ed coughs. Roy folds his hands up suddenly.

At this, Riza amends her statement keenly, "But not by that much, Sir," bows briefly, and sweeps out.

She shuts the door behind her, and for a moment the room is a vacuum.

Ed makes to leave.

"Fullmetal," the Colonel calls out, his voice suddenly loud, white noise in an empty space.

"… What?"

"Good luck."

Ed turns away from him, gripping the door handle and yanking the door open. "Okay, whatever."

Though he can still feel it, the Colonel's gaze, intent, watching and _waiting_.

_Who are you waiting for?_

"Fullmetal, good luck."

He turns around and meets the stare slowly but directly, the action deliberate. Photosynthesis, he thinks. Breathe in and breathe out. He sighs, and gives a brief nod. That's all.

He walks away.

Silence.

The Colonel watches.

On the cold surface of the desk, a photo in a heavy wooden frame, its edges old and worn-looking. Winter. The scene is winter, and frosted trees reach up to the sun. The photograph is of a family of three. White air freezes around them. Breathing, they are breathing, and all three are smiling.

Scrawled on the back of the photo, a handwritten message: _It's so bright!_

_What are you?_

Without warning, he reaches out, clasps the top of the wooden frame tightly, and slams it facedown.

* * *

_a/n _» Okay, writing Roy is _impossible_. xD;


End file.
